


Say My Name

by MediumSizedEvil



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV), The Handmaid's Tale (TV), The Handmaid's Tale - Margaret Atwood
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Crossover, F/M, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-04 07:27:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18338954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MediumSizedEvil/pseuds/MediumSizedEvil
Summary: In the bleak world of Gilead Jake and Amy find solace in each other.“I don't own you. Nobody owns you.”





	Say My Name

Amy silently slipped down the wooden staircase. The house was dark and quiet, the only sound coming from the regular ticking of the hallway clock. Her heart was beating much faster and she was gripped by fear and doubt. What if she got caught? She knew the consequences would be grave. What if he betrayed her? She tried to calm her fear with rational thought. Although they had been rivals at work she had never known Jake to be disloyal.

But what if he had become a true believer and was loyal to them now? She wanted to think he was just pretending, going through the motions like her. Often enough she was witness to the comtempt and distrust he faced as a converted Jew. Being demoted to driver was just the start of it. But in the end everyone did what they had to in order to survive. She had not given up her gun without a fight, and she had been punished for it. She tightly clenched the fabric of her hated red uniform in her fist. She just hoped Rosa had made it across the border.

She slipped through the dark hallway and into the deserted kitchen. She realised she had no choice but to trust him. She just hoped that deep down he was still the same, although he seemed like a whole other person now, stoic and closed off. Under constant scrutiny and never alone for more than a few seconds, they had to act like strangers, like ships passing in the night.

The moonlight cast grotesque shadows on the checkered kitchen tiles as she stole across to the conservatory. She sometimes thought she caught a glimpse of the real Jake as a wisecrack died on his lips. And perhaps at times there was a look, a glance, a hint of a smile in passing. Or maybe she was just so lonely that she only imagined it, desperate for someone to acknowledge her, to see her for who she really was.

She quietly closed the conservatory door and crept through the garden towards the garage by the light of the moon. She noticed a weak shimmer from the attic window and silently made her way up the stairs. The door was unlocked, and she quickly entered. 

Jake was sitting at the table, cleaning his gun. He looked up and froze at the sight of her. “Amy?” he asked incredulously.

She could not move, she could not speak. To hear her own name again after so long affected her in a way she never imagined.

He stood up and put the gun down on the table. Then he slowly moved towards her. “Are you alright? Do you need anything?”

She swallowed hard and forced herself to speak. “Yes,” she managed at last, “I need your help.”

But she could not say it. She moved closer as he waited for her to continue. She took a deep breath. “I will be sent to the Colonies if I don't get pregnant soon.” She felt light-headed and looked down at her feet on the rough wooden floor boards. The silence was stifling, and her heart was racing fast.

“And you're asking me to...” he supplied hesitantly.

“Yes.” She fought down a wave of nausea. She felt weak and powerless, to have to ask such a humiliating thing from a former colleague.

“I'll try to help, if I can,” he said earnestly. Of course there was no guarantee it would work, and the thought made her sick to her stomach again.

“Amy, I'm so sorry you have to do this.”

She looked up and tried to restrain herself.

“But I'm glad that you came to me,” he continued. “I want to look after you.”

A sudden rage took hold of her. “I don't need _looking after_ ,” she fumed. “I'm not your property!” She turned around and started walking away. This was all a mistake. He was just the same.

“Amy, please wait.”

The siren call of her own name made her stop in her tracks.

“I'm sorry, that's not what I meant,” he pleaded. “I don't own you. Nobody owns you. Amy, please.” 

She slowly turned around.

“What I meant was is just that I want to make you feel good.”

She was still fighting the bile in her throat, and looked at him with fresh disdain.

“But it's your choice,” he added.

She slowly reconsidered, steeling her resolve. “And you will do as I say?” she demanded harshly.

“Anything. Anything you say.”

She roughly pushed him backwards with a hand to his chest until he fell down on the bed. She crawled over his body like a predator stalking a prey. She wanted to push him. She wanted to see how far the poison had spread. She pressed a hand to his throat and dug her nails in his skin, but he did not flinch. She forced a punishing kiss to his mouth and bit his lip, swallowing his shocked cry. Then she drew back and grabbed his hair, pulling his head back harshly and drawing her nails across his throat. His eyes were squeezed shut and his mouth opened in a silent scream. It felt so good to turn the tables. This is _my_ Ceremony, she thought grimly, and I'll take what I want. When she finally let go he opened his eyes but did not speak. 

“Say my name,” she demanded.

“Amy,” he said, confused. “Amy Santiago.”

“Again.”

“Amy Santiago.” he said slowly, looking at her questioningly. “You are Amy Santiago.” She nodded and he continued, “You are Detective Amy Santiago of the NYPD.” 

She grabbed his shoulder tightly. “Yes.”

“You're Detective Santiago of the 99. Your reports are flawless. You have the best arrest record in-”

She silenced him with a brutal kiss as a heady rush of memories overwhelmed her. As she bent over him she suddenly felt the red fabric suffocating her chest and itching her skin. These clothes did not belong on her. She sat up and quickly pulled off her dress, carelessly throwing it on the floor behind her. She ripped off the ugly chemise too. She felt his gaze on her and straightened her spine. Then she removed her cap and pulled her hair loose. She let it fall down her back and closed her eyes, savouring her freedom.

“So beautiful,” he whispered, lost in thought.

She looked down at him and he startled. “I'm sorry,” he said, somewhat flustered, “for, like, objectifying you.”

“No, say it.” She leaned down and forced him to look her in the eye. “Tell me the truth.”

He swallowed hard. “Amy, you are so beautiful,” he started, “you're perfect.” His words were like water in the desert. “You are gorgeous, just...” His voice faltered as she loosened her bra and tossed it aside. He took a sharp breath. “You are smart and sexy and I want you so much.”

She moved down slightly to feel the truth of it, and relished in his helpless moan.

“Undress,” she ordered brusquely. She stood up and turned around. Unhurriedly she removed her boots as she listened to the frantic rustling of clothes behind her. Then she took off her stockings and drawers, feeling his eyes caress her skin.

Finally she turned around and found him naked and wanting at the foot of the bed. He drank in the sight of her as she stradled his thighs, and he sighed deeply. “Dammit Santiago, are you trying to kill me?”

She couldn't help but laugh, and marvelled at the strangeness of the sound. It had been too long since she'd last heard it. She hid her face in his neck and bit him playfully. He hissed and lightly nipped her ear in return. Soon they were rolling around on the bed, teasing and playing, laughing and cursing. They were as competitive as ever, trying to drive each other crazy with hands and mouths.

Finally Amy had him pinned down with his hands above his head, and he admitted defeat. They were both panting, skin slick with sweat. In the sudden quiet a new understanding grew between them.

She held his gaze as she lowered herself on his length. He closed his eyes and his jaw went slack, then she saw the tension building in his muscles as he struggled to keep still for her. She gently rocked back and forth, and his eyes flew open.

“Oh Ames,” he said reverently.

She felt a rush of affection and leaned down to kiss him. It felt so new, so intimate, she had no words for it. She only wanted to be even closer and franctically moved her hands to his arms, his face, his hair, struggling for purchase. He wrapped his arms around her tightly and sat up slowly until she was in his lap. She clung to him, desperately, as if she was drowning. He kissed her face, her ear, her mouth, everywhere he could reach while holding her tight. They began to move together in a steady rhytm. She licked the salt off his neck and felt him shiver. They moved faster and kissed even more frantically, until he released her lips and panted harshly, “Ames, I can't...”

“Yes,” she hissed and bit his earlobe.

She felt the shudder go through him and inside her, and clung even closer to feel every last tremor. Then she felt his hand between her legs. She was so sensitive that she came almost instantly. 

Exhausted they lay down side by side, fingers intertwined, unwilling to let go just yet. He slowly moved her hand to her stomach, covering it with his own, and they shared a wordless conversation. Then he lowered his gaze to their hands and softly spoke in Hebrew.

His face was so serious it almost made her cry. He looked so sweet and sincere, so unlike the old Jake she once knew. “Who _are_ you?” she whispered.

He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. Then he kissed the stump where her index finger had been. “I am Ofamy.”


End file.
